


The First Attempt

by AgnesTomlinson



Series: Loki's Attempts [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Mouth Sewn Shut, Odin (Marvel)'s Bad Parenting, Pre-Canon, Suicide Attempt, Teen Angst, Teen Loki, mentioned - Freeform, very briefly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesTomlinson/pseuds/AgnesTomlinson
Summary: He has made a decision, one that will change everything and that will finally set him free. He won’t be the lesser son or unworthy of his title. He won’t be a liar and he won’t be a cheater. He will be nothing. He is ready for it. This is the only thing in his life that has made sense, the only thing he feels like he could control and be worthy of. Death.





	The First Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the MCU, I've for the past year been completely sucked into the dynamics of Asgard and Loki and everything he does. This is my take on Loki's character and what could have been part of his past before the first Thor movie. I hope you enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.
> 
> (Ps. this is kind of dark and if you are triggered by suicide or suicidal thoughts/actions, then reading this is probably a bad idea. Be safe.)

He is young, not young enough to be considered a child, but not yet old enough to be an adult. He is in that awkward inbetween age where he should be figuring out who he is and what he wants, but truth is that he wants nothing. The world doesn’t excite him, waking up is more a chore than anything else. Everything is routine and he tires of it, but has no energy to fix it so instead he goes through it and hates every moment. He is second born and the throne will never be his and no one in Asgard wishes to speak with him. No one likes him, all think him strange, he has no friends and none he can rant to, no one he can open his heart for. He is melodramatic, he knows, he hears it constantly from Thor and his friends. He acts like a maiden, is offended by the slightest joke and he cannot fight. He doesn’t stand a chance against Thor nor Sif. He is useless. He isn’t a fighter, will never be a warrior and therefore he won’t die a warrior’s death and go to Valhalla. He is not yet an adult and he has already secured himself a place in Helheim. He won’t be worthy. He broods and thinks and he is so exhausted and done with it all. - Mother says it’s hormones that is making him so moody and that it will pass, but Loki is not so sure. He can no longer remember a time when he didn’t feel like this. Cannot remember when he last felt sparks of excitement in his stomach or when he last laughed in a heartfelt way. He cannot remember smiling unconsciously, only knows that he now smiles to please others. He doesn’t feel like he has anything to smile about.

 

The only thing that makes him feel anything close to excitement or happiness, is his seiðr. It is all he has and he is good at it, _ he is great _ , but, it’s not enough. Magic will never be enough. Not here, never in Asgard and it won’t be good enough for Father, no matter how much Mother tries to encourage him. He know his skill is frowned upon. His tricks and cheats are not honery fighting skills, he may win, but there is no glory or honour in it. It doesn’t matter if he can beat all of Asgard’s fighters, since he cannot do it like a real warrior and man. He hides, they say, behind seiðr, behind illusions and whispers, he confuses his opponent until he can strike. He plays dirty. He cheats. It doesn’t matter. It is not the way of the Aesir. He brings shame to the home of Odin when he fights like that. He can never win. He doesn’t know why he still tries, why he still hopes. He will never be worthy and his skills will never be appreciated.

 

Loki doesn’t belong. He cannot meet Asgard’s standards, he cannot live up to his father’s name. He cannot, no matter how hard he tries. It does not matter that he has studied all the realms, knows all there is to know and has read most of the books that Asgard has to offer. It matters not that he sits with Father during political meetings, doesn’t matter that he learns and tries to help out. He is not Thor, he is not charming and loud and strong. He is Loki, he is mischievous and quiet and cunning. He does his workings in the shadows. He hears all and knows all, but he cannot act, because if he does they will call him honourless. Hiding in the shadows is not the Aesir way. No one sees him for who he is, they don’t know him for what he is. They only see Thor’s lesser brother who spends his days sneaking around, playing pranks or reading. He is no match to Thor. He never will be.

 

It hurts, to be seen as the lesser of Odin’s sons, to be in the position to gain all of Asgard’s trust and love, but failing. He is a failure, he could do better, be better. He could live up to all the expectations, he could try to be more like Thor, to fit in better. He has tried. He practiced fighting with swords and battle in honorable ways, he tried. He spent hours practising his stance and it did not work. He got better, slowly, but not enough. The sword is too heavy, he is too lanky, doesn’t have enough muscles to fight like a real warrior, he doesn’t have the build for it. He begins to use daggers and magic instead. But he did try, he played the part of Thor’s little brother a long time, he idolized Thor and did his best to be like him. He let Thor’s friends make fun of him when he failed and let Thor belittle him, he let them all walk over him without saying a word. He let them try to mold him into what he was supposed to be. He should have let them succeed.

 

He began to fight them. He could no longer let them make him feel small. He could not keep his mouth shut. After having forcefully being silenced by the Dwarves, he could no longer stand it. He could not let his mouth be shut, he had to talk back, let them all know that he could stand up for himself, that he was more than they made him think he was. The thought of staying silent when he had words to say suffocated him and he could not stop talking. He talked back, let them all fear what he would say next. His words cut deeper than the fighting they had tried to teach him. 

 

He got his  _ Silver tongue  _ and made everyone fear what sharp and clever words that would leave his mouth. He always had something to answer, words that would make the one insulting him look stupid. He found a way to win. The taunting stopped and even Thor seemed scared to say the wrong thing, in fear of what Loke might say in return. He had the power to shut anyone up, after watching and listening in the shadows he knew more of Asgard’s secrets than anyone could dare to dream. He could crumble anyone’s reputation with just a few words. He was powerful.

 

But it was foul play, he eavesdropped and twisted words and made fun of people, there is no honour in that. It was shameful and Odin looked at him with such disappointment. Loki was not better than any other liar.  _ God of lies _ . He despised it. He wasn’t a liar. He told the truths no one else dared to speak. He knew more than anyone else, yet no one seemed to appreciate it.  _ Liar _ . He stopped speaking back. Stopped speaking much at all. He still listened, still hid in the shadows, but he made no mention of what he heard or saw. No one wanted to listen anyway. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

 

He has made a decision, one that will change everything and that will finally set him free. He won’t be the lesser son or unworthy of his title. He won’t be a liar and he won’t be a cheater. He will be nothing. He is ready for it. This is the only thing in his life that has made sense, the only thing he feels like he could control and be worthy of.  _ Death _ .

 

The dagger in his hand is the one he got from the Allfather on his nameday, the equivalent of the day Thor got his hammer. The day Thor got more power and strength than any adolescent should have, a power of which he misuses and is not worthy of. Thor got his hammer and Loki got a dagger. An ordinary dagger, which Loki himself had to inscribe spells and runes to make it even slightly dangerous. Getting the dagger had been like being punched hard in the gut. He had to force himself to smile and thank his father for it, for he did not wish to seem ungrateful, but he was disappointed. So disappointed. After seeing what Thor got years before, he had built up a fantasy where the Allfather would gift him something great that would finally show everyone Loki’s worth and significance. Instead, he got the dagger which would at best irritate his opponent. There had been whispers after that, all around the castle Loki could hear people gossiping, talking about how obvious it was that Odin favoured Thor over Loki. It hurt, because it was true. Thor was the better son. More worthy of the throne and their father’s love. Loki could never compare.

 

Loki had tried to win his father’s love, to be of worth. He had done what was asked of him, he had studied hard and kept up with the dealings between the realms, he knew all there was to know of Asgard’s and the other realms’ history. He knew of all the important people and their relations to the Allfather. He had learnt more than what was asked of him. He spent more time in the library than anyone else and had read most of the books that were available. He tried so hard, and yet it was not enough. He did all Odin asked of him. He had met with the diplomat from Vanaheim, he had given up his own body for the sake of the realm, only because it was what Odin had asked him to do. It granted him a clap on the shoulder and a nod, something that had done little to wash away the dirt in Loki’s soul. He could still feel the man’s hands on his body, still feel the warmth of his breath against his neck. He could not get rid of it. It made him feel like a stranger in his own skin. His worth began to slip away from him. He was no longer his own person. He was a part of a play. 

 

He would show them, he would show them all what he was worthy of. He would show them that he was not afraid. Not of death. He would bring it upon himself and he’d go to Helheim, where he deserved to be, he’d wither away there in the rocky climate where he’d live with the other monsters and unworthy people. Valhalla was not for him, he would never find an honorary death, he would not die in battle. He’d face the consequences for his action. Death would come for him. He would show them all.

 

Blood, crimson coloured, flows out of the vertical cut on his wrist. It stings but it does not matter. Swiftly and without hesitation Loki makes a matching wound on his other wrist and watches as his arms gets tainted red. The bathtub of which he has opted to sit in was once filled with clear water, but it is quickly turning pink and red. It’s fascinating to watch. The colour fascinates him and he cannot take his eyes from it. He watches how the read spreads its way through the water and pales until it’s mixed with the water. The tendrils of blood take his breath away. He wants this. He wants this so bad and he feels himself relax into it.

 

His head hurts and he is tired and quicker than he thought his vision begins to fail him. He gasps lightly, feeling how much harder it is to make the air reach his lungs. There is some kind of panic clawing in his chest, telling him to stop this. To call his seiðr and make the wounds heal. He ignores it. He smiles and lets the darkness consume him.

 

***

 

The light is blinding and his mouth is dry and tastes of blood. He is still in the bathtub, but the water is gone and he is left with blood tainted body parts and bath. On his wrist are thin white scars and blood.  _ He is not dead _ . His wounds are healed and he is not dead. He is still in Asgard, in his chamber’s bath. He doesn’t understand. Anger and frustration wells up inside of him and he lets out a growl and stands. He swears at the Norns and washes himself and the bath with magic. Tears are leaking from his eyes and he bangs his head against the wall. He can’t breathe.

 

He has failed, the one thing he thought he could be worthy of was not granted to him. He feels the tendrils of healing magic working in his body and he swears again because of course it is his own body that fails his death. It stitches itself back up faster than he can bleed out, it restores the balances in his body and makes him keep living. He hates it and he is humiliated. He hates failure, especially when he brings it upon himself. He should have taken more precautions to make sure it would work. Should have read more about it, found a way to slow or stop his healing abilities. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. Nothing he does works out for him. He can never win.

 

No one will know about this, no one will hear about what he tried to do, of how he faced death and survived. No one will know the darkness of his mind and the actions he is ready to do to get rid of it. They will not know that he is not scared of death and they won’t know that he is not deservant of it. Nothing will change.

 

Nothing, but Loki, will change. He will pull back, he will not be seen, he will act as if he had died. He will stay out of everyone’s ways, he will work in the shadows. Knowing all, but doing nothing. He will see things, hear things, absorb them and keep them. He will soak up everything until the day he is ready, until it is time to show everyone what he is. What he knows. He will show them. Eventually. He will.

 

But for now, he will stay in the shadows and learn all he can.


End file.
